Secrets
by Crimson Puppetmaster
Summary: In a dark, post-apocalyptic future a meeting is in progress to determine a plan of action now that the Boy-Who-Lived has become the Boy-Who-Died but not everything is as it seems. Dark AU, Book One and Magic Trio centric. Pairings inside.
1. Prologue

**Full summary: In a dark, post-apocalyptic world where the Boy-Who-Lived has become the Boy-Who-Died and the Dark Lord Voldemort has taken over, three people sit in a deserted pub discussing the situation. Their opinions of what happened and who is at fault are varied yet they come to a decision; to go back in time and make sure this doesn't happen. **

**Year one, post-HetaOni, and Magic Trio centric. Includes Dumbles-bashing and evil!Dumbledore. A darker take on the Harry Potter series. **

**Parings: Since this is Magic Trio centric expect a lot of FrUK, RoBul and DenNor (especially the last since it's my OTP) but there will be other more minor pairings happening sort off "off-screen" unless it's important to the plot. These other pairings include but are not limited to Spamano, RusAme, HongIce, SuFin, AusHun, GerIta, and PruCan.**

**Rating: Currently T but if anyone is acting stupid I may bump it up to M. Remember this is a **_**dark**_** story and I will not change it just because someone is too stupid to head my warnings. Any flames will be ignored or mocked. Don't like, don't read; simple as that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Hetalia but the story is mine. **

* * *

Dark. He didn't like the way his wizarding community had become, constantly slinking through the shadows as if afraid to walk in the light with hurried steps and downcast eyes. Silent. There were no children crying or salesmen calling out prices in an attempt to draw customers and even the wind seemed to cease to blow. Still. Cold._ Dead_. He shook the thoughts from his mind while pushing open the creaking door of the pub that served as a gateway between worlds. Or at least it _had_ been before anyone non-magical had been killed off like diseased livestock. The inside was empty except for his two friends, who he had called here himself, sitting at a back table and chatting in hushed voices. There were no cheerful hellos as he took the third seat, just hollow eyes staring back at him. Of course, what did he expect? Harry Potter, this world's last hope, had fallen and the black taint of Voldemort had already slipped into other countries.

"I don't like this," England started without preamble, his voice as hushed as theirs had been and his bushy eyebrows drawn into a tense line, "I don't like this at all. Where the hell did we go wrong?" Everything had seemed to be working perfectly only to fall apart at the last moment and he could've kicked himself for being drawn into a false sense of security.

"You put too much trust on Dumbledore," Romania spat bitterly from the seat to his left though whether the words were the other's true opinion or just the mug of Firewhisky clenched in his hand talking was to be debated. England didn't blame his friend for turning to alcohol; at a time like this, everyone seemed to need a good drink, "We should've realized by the Tri-Wizard tournament that things were not safe there. The boy shouldn't have been left at Hogwarts with that incompetent old man!" Norway, who sat on England's other side, shot the most likely drunk Romanian a glare since his voice had risen with the growing anger.

"Dumbledore is not the problem," The Norwegian replied in a smooth tone like velvet; a man of few words and even fewer emotions, he preferred to get right to the heart of matters rather than go beating around the bush. It was simply too much effort wasted. "You're too focused on old grudges that you refuse to let go." He eyed the alcohol warily, he never seemed to take very well to the substance and after the last time had left him both horridly drunk and incessantly lewd he tended to stay away from all varieties.

"Dumbledore failed to protect him-!" A drunken flush had spread across the irate Romanian's cheeks in a matter of seconds. Just how much had he drank so far to progressing through the stages of intoxication so quickly? . . . Or maybe that wasn't Firewhisky at all. England shook his head, this wasn't the time to be debating such things.

"Dumbledore is dead," Came the blunt reply from Norway as England brought his attention back to the conversation, "How could he protect Potter when he's dead?"

"Why are you on Iggy's side? Both of you singing that bastard's reeking praises, he was a _manipulator_ and a _liar. _I fail to see anything to like about him!" The other retorted angrily, slamming his now-empty mug down on the table. "Your beloved hero is nothing more than a _fraud_, as all heroes turn out to be. Why don't you go back to not caring like you usually do and stay the hell out of this, eh Norge?"

"Now you're just being childish. Why do you even hate him anyway?" Although Norway went through the effort of rolling his eyes it was obvious the argument would dissolve into a magical duel if it continued.

"Both of you two stop it!" England snapped before either could reach for wands (not that they really needed them), "This is no time to be fighting like bloody children! Don't make me silence both of you!"

"You're no better than us," Romania spat in reply as he turned to the Englishman obvious annoyance. "I would've expected you lot to learn the error of your ways, like me, when faced with this calamity but it seems like I was mistaken. Dumbledore is a _failure_ and it's all your fault things have gotten like this!" He stressed the words as if talking to an infant.

"Oh, so it's all _my _fault now, huh?!"

"_Your_ Dark Lord, _your_ prophecy, _your_ Boy-Who-Lived-Only-To-Tragically-Die-Later, _your fault, _oh mighty United Kingdom of Great Brittan and Northern Fucking Ireland. This meeting is getting us nowhere so if you _don't mind _I'll be leaving." The venom dripping from Romania's words was practically visible as he unsteadily rose from his seat.

"Vladimir Popescul sit your ass down before I _nail _it down!" Iggy snapped forcing the other back into his seat not that he really needed to considering Vlad would've just fallen right back down anyway, "Whether or not Dumbledore is a failure is of no concern, what is is figuring out what we can do about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" _Don't say it's all my fault, even if it is._

"Nothing _can_ be done-!"

"-Yes there bloody can!" For a moment the two were locked in a deadly staring contest.

"Oh really? Then please do tell," Vlad retorted in a condescending tone.

"The three of us will go back in time to make sure this mess never happens," Iggy hissed back with exaggerated patience.

"Are you sure?" Was the reply of the ever-calm Norwegian who seemed not at all concerned by the argument going on in front of him, "That will take a lot of magic."

"Which is why we're going to bloody do it _together_."

"You just want to save your dear, manipulative bastard of a headmaster," The Romanian continued to sneer only to end up being completely ignored.

"How far back do you plan to go?" Norge questioned.

"Yes, please do tell us how long we have to deal with you," Vlad added dryly but was again ignored.

"We'll go back to the first year and enroll alongside Harry and protect him ourselves if need be."

"What so you're going to drag us to the bloody school with you?!" Vlad continued to make his opinion known even if it was consistently ignored, "No bloody way am I going anywhere near that man!"

"Yes that's what the word 'together' implies," Iggy responded in the same dry tone the drunken Romanian had used, "And you have no choice, you don't want the world to turn into, well, _this_ do you?" He waved his hand in the air as an illustration of what he meant, "This dark, post-apocalyptic feel? It's like-!"

"Like when you were in the mansion, yes, yes, we've heard it a thousand times already," Vlad answered dismissively.

"Wha—You act like you don't bloody believe me!"

"Oh I believe you; however, after the hundredth time it kind of gets old."

"Now who's arguing?" Norge cut in over top of the Englishman's retort, "Are we going to do this or are we just going to sit around fighting like Russia and America when they're forced to be in the same room together?" There was no response. "Now that I've got your attention I suggest we take care of this as quickly as possible. Get your things and we'll meet at Arthur's place in no more than an hour to cast the spell, since, after all, it was both his idea and his fault." England repressed a wince as, without waiting for a reply, the Norwegian Apparated away. The remaining duo glared at each other for a moment more but soon realized they really had no choice. Leaving behind some money for the barkeep, England stood and muttered something about getting ready before also vanishing yet Romania lingered in the empty bar staring at the table but not really seeing it. He sighed and with that one simple action all fight seemed to drain out of him.

"And so it begins again," he murmured, "I'm sorry I have to keep lying; it's not really your fault Iggy, it's mine. . . . It always is."


	2. Chapter 1 - Meetings and Sortings

**First off I have to say thank you for all the kind reviews and the favorites and for all the silent readers. You don't know how encouraging it is to see that people actually like your story even though it's just the prologue. Seriously thanks :) Also, I prefer to reply to the reviews I get so I can thank each of you personally but I still allow guest reviews. If you leave me one I'll just thank you in the A/N. So thanks to the person who sent me a guest review! Also to the magic guest don't worry, they'll grow into the pairings later on though I am curious to which one in particular is your OTP. I agree that there are too few Magic Trio stories, I love them and their bickering, it's so fun to write~! The question of why Romania blames himself will be answered much later, though.**

**I'm sorry but I can't promise anything more than a chapter a month because I'm currently a freshman in college and school has the priority (my major is game arts, for those who care. It's basically the art side of video game design). I'm giving myself a _minimum_ of a chapter a month, though, so you may get lucky. Just hope we keep getting dumped with snow like we have been if you want more chapters. Also it's probably obvious but I'm an American writing a story about British characters. There will probably be some inconsistencies and I'll most likely end up using the American spelling for things (i.e. colour is color and mum is mom). I apologize now if there are any people who hate that but I'll do my best.**

**Also, if you see any similarities to one of Fiery-Ocean's stories then don't worry; she's my awesome Schwester and has given me permission to use those things in my story. Love ya' Rose ;D**

**Disclaimer: If I owned either franchise I wouldn't have thousands of dollars of student loan debt hanging over my head threatening to come crashing down around me the instant I leave college now would I?**

* * *

It was obvious to anyone who saw him that Harry Potter was lost. He saw Platforms 9 and 10 so where was Platform 9 and 3/4? He frowned at the barrier between the two platforms he knew about and even walked around the entire thing twice but nothing happened. _If I click my heels three times will the path appear?_ He silently wondered, _Or do I have to say some weird incantation? _He didn't like either prospect; the normal people around here were already looking at him like he was insane and his aunt and uncle had practically kicked both him and his luggage out without even stopping. Harry sighed, half tempted to go ahead and click his heels when, out of all the other conversations going on, his ears tuned into a particular one.

"-For someone who didn't want to come you seem awfully eager," The voice had an exaggerated British accent, almost stereotypical in nature. The tone was bland, the speaker either extremely bored or highly annoyed. Harry was willing to vote the latter.

"Hey if I'm forced to be here I should at least try to be cheerful!" A different accent that took longer to place. Harry only succeeded in doing so when he remembered walking by the living room while his cousin's family (for it most certainly wasn't _his_) was watching some movie with a lot of blood and screaming. His mind supplied the title; _Dracula_. For some of the most arrogant, self-centered, and _simple-minded_ people who Harry had ever known it was more than a little surprising. Dudley must've bullied his parents into watching it with him.

"We'll see how long this lasts," A third voice cut through Harry's reverie. Smooth like velvet but not at all warm, one of the first things Harry noticed was that it was even more bland than the first person's voice; it seemed to be almost monotone in nature! "Next thing you know he'll be trying to declare war on Elizabeta," A pause, "Or Dumbledore."

"That bastard will get what's coming to him!" 'Dracula,' as Harry's mind had dubbed him due to lack of his name, yelled in reply.

"Silence idiot," Smooth Voice Guy retorted, "You're drawing attention to us."

"Are you sure that's me and not that huge ass troll that follows you along like a long-lost puppy?" Wait-what?_ 'Huge ass troll . . . ?' _Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"Not everyone can _see _him, you moron," Smooth Voice Guy heaved a long-suffering sigh. _. . . Wait if he's not arguing does that mean that Smooth Voice Guy really _does_ have a 'huge ass troll?'_

"Yo, Kid you're in the way." Harry let out an involuntary shriek, spinning around to find the trio he was just eavesdropping on right behind him. There were three boys that appeared around his age though something about them seemed much older. They were all blond but each had a different eye color. Directly behind the black-haired boy, sitting on the cart of one of his friends, was a boy with bright red eyes the color of fresh blood. It was mildly creepy, Harry decided. _This must be Dracula_, he silently mused_._ Seeming to sense his discomfort, 'Dracula' grinned, leaning closer to him.

"You smell good, you know?" He chirped and Harry noticed something that made his blood run cold. _Dracula has fangs . . . D-D-D-D-Dracula has _fangs_!_

"Vamp—!" Harry started but was cut off by a hand across his mouth.

"Sh," Dracula hissed, "You can't tell anyone my secret or I'll kill you." The threatening look he attempted was ruined by one of his friends leaning over and roughly whacking him upside the head with what appeared to be a rolled-up newspaper.

"Do you enjoy being an idiot or does it just come naturally?" Ah, so this must be Smooth Voice Guy. Ignoring his friend's complaints he turned to Harry, "Just ignore him; he's no vampire so he's perfectly harmless."

"But the fangs—!"

"—Are fake," Smooth Voice Guy cut Harry off, "He got them as a gag gift one year and decided to keep them." This boy had perfectly combed hair, half of it pinned back by a golden, cross-shaped hairpin. Dull eyes observed Harry for a moment before moving on; he seemed bored with the entire situation. "If you're looking for Platform 9 and 3/4 it's right behind you," He added. Harry turned around to glance at the barrier in confusion.

"But it's solid brick . . . "

"No it isn't," Smooth Voice Guy responded, "Allow me to demonstrate," And, without further adieu, he threw Dracula at the barrier. Harry watched in silent horror as the blonde—went right through the barrier as if it wasn't even there. He poked his head back out a moment later.

"You're so mean Lukey!" What, so Smooth Voice Guy's name was actually 'Lukey'?

"Obviously not mean enough if you persist in calling me that name, idiot," Was the retort, "My name is _Lukas_, not Lukey."

"Now, now, don't get your panties in a twist, Lukey~!"

"I'm about to twist_ something _if you don't shut up and it _won't _be panties," Lukas threatened, still in that seemingly eternal monotone.

"Lukas! Vlad! You're acting like bloody children!" Harry turned to the last boy and immediately noticed his massive eyebrows. Seriously, they looked like caterpillars!

"Like you're any better Eyebrows!" —And his friends even nicknamed him after them too! Harry stifled his laughter but couldn't repress his smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Eyebrows snarled, not at all amused, "It's not my bloody fault!"

"Why not try waxing them~?" Vlad/Dracula grinned (he seemed to do that a lot).

"I've tried! They keep bloody growing back!"

Ignoring his friends as if this was a common occurrence (which, judging by what Harry had seen, it probably was) Lukas turned to him, "The entrance to the platform is through that barrier behind you. It may look solid but it's really just an illusion; after all, no one in their right mind would willingly run into a seemingly solid brick wall." His lips twisted ever so slightly at that, as if recalling an unhappy memory, "Best to go fast and get it over with if you're nervous."

"T-thanks, I guess," Harry responded as he slowly backed away from the group, "I suppose I'll see you later?"

"Yes," Lukas replied, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other," Nodding the other boy said his goodbyes and vanished through the barrier oblivious to the whisper following him, ". . . _Harry Potter_."

". . . What do you think of him?" One of Lukas' friends questioned as they watched the Boy-Who-Lived disappear.

"I think he's much too young to become a weapon." Vlad let out a bitter laugh at that.

"Aren't we all?"

". . . Vlad?"

"Yeah, Lukas?"

"Get off my stuff."

* * *

There was a funeral type aura in the last car of the crimson Hogwarts Express. Now that the Magic Trio was alone there was no need to keep the ruse up any longer. No one spoke, they didn't need to; the stares were enough as Vlad crunched a blood pop with more force than was necessary as he glared out the window and the other two watched him with a mixture of worry and wariness. By this time the trolley had long come and gone leaving the group with a variety of candy—blood pops being the vast majority of it.

The silence from the usually loud, boisterous Romanian was unnerving to say the least and the sounds of chewing were the only noises reverberating around the room. It was no surprise that a certain pair of boys paused upon entering.

"T-t-there's no room in the other compartments and-!" A tall, red-haired boy stuttered, seeming not to notice his companion freezing in place. He recognized these three from the station but the aura around them had completely changed. What happened to the cheerfulness and teasing?

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," Lukas rolled his eyes as he spoke, face completely lacking of any and all emotion. "Sit." Without completely understanding why, the newcomers obeyed. There was something about this group that made disobedience unthinkable.

"Who are you?" The question came spilling out, the redhead seemingly abashed at his inability to remain silent. The Magic Trio exchanged a look.

"Vlad," The long-silent Romanian spoke around his candy. "Those two are Lukas," He motioned to the emotionless blonde with the blood pop prompting the redhead to stare at it in disbelief, "And Artie." The other blonde's head snapped up from the book he had retreated to when he realized that he would be getting nowhere with the Romanian and large brows furrowed above narrowed emerald eyes.

"How many times do I have to bloody tell you my name is _Arthur_ you git?!"

"It's either Artie, Eyebrows, or Iggy, which do you prefer?" Arthur glared but fell silent prompting the other to send him a mocking grin, "I thought so."

"Are you seriously eating those things?!" The redhead from before suddenly yelped, staring at the candy still held in the Romanian's hand.

"What things?" Vlad played innocent, "And you never told us your names, by the way."

"Those things are blood pops," Ron, the redhead, continued after a quick introduction during which Harry remained silent, "And you're seriously _eating_ them? What are you, a vampire?!" Vlad's grin turned toxic.

"I might be~!"

"Idiot," Lukas cut in, "Stop tormenting them; you're not a vampire. Why must you attempt to pull that stunt with everyone you meet?"

"Because their reactions make it fun~!" The newspaper from before made a reappearance, "Ow! You're the only one I know that can make things like that actually _hurt_!"

"I have a lot of experience."

"What, beating Mathias?"

"Yes."

"Things like that can hurt, you know. One wrong word and the entire future can change." Vlad suddenly, and rather randomly, changed subject.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Both Vlad's expression and voice lost all hints of humor, "You really don't care, do you? You've never cared. Will you ever get tired of being just a meaningless existence?"

"Meaningless existence am I?" Lukas retorted, "Just because I hate emotion I lose all meaning?"

"There's a difference between 'living' and just 'existing,' Lukey-boy," Again Vlad was smacked.

"We're not having this argument again Blood Breath."

"Wait—what?" Harry blinked in confusion as he returned to Earth, only able to catch the last sentence.

"The blood pops make his breath smell like blood," Lukas replied only to blink when Vlad began to _laugh_.

"Blood Breath? Is that really the best you can come up with?" The Romanian scoffed, a twisted grin reappearing on his face, "I expected better of you, Ice Prince."

"Ice Prince-?"

"Do you know _anything_?" He cut the Norwegian off.

"Does this have anything to do with your unfounded hatred of Dumbledore?" Arthur cut in. The other boy's ears perked up.

"Unfounded?" The Romanian scoffed, a predatory grin appearing on his face, "You two really have _no idea_, do you? Of course, it's not like I expected anything less from you. My grudge is unfounded? If only you knew." He fell silent, leaning back into his seat and fixing his friends with a dark look.

". . . What's going on here?" Ron seemed horrified, "Dumbledore is a hero! He defeated Grindelwald and You-Know-Who is afraid of him and-!"

"_HERO?!_" Vlad burst into mocking laughter as if that comment was the funniest thing he had ever heard, "What are you, mindless zombies that believe everything the media tells you?! Hero my ass!"

"Vlad doesn't like Dumbledore," Arthur sent the Romanian a glare, "Never has but he refuses to tell anyone why."

"You don't want to know," Vlad's tone had dropped to melancholy and tinged with a hint of hurt, "Trust me, you don't want to know." He pulled his legs into his seat and wrapped his arms around them, his chin resting on his knees as his eyes turned to fix on the rolling landscape cloaked in darkness that raced past the window. After that comment no one could find it in them to speak.

* * *

"Bondevik, Lukas." Arthur glanced over at the Norwegian as the his name was called and the other merely nodded back before stepping forward and up to the stool whereon sat a tattered wizard's hat with a brain and a mouth; the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat. As the hat dropped onto Lukas' head he frowned. The frown was tiny and barely there for a second but it was still there. For a moment there was nothing, the silence was so complete that you could've heard a quill drop or the shifting of robed witches and wizards, then the hat cried out "Ravenclaw!" causing the blue and purple table to burst into applause. Silently, Lukas moved to his House and sat down but made no attempt to answer his Housemates who tried to start a conversation.

"Why am I not surprised?" Vlad rolled his eyes at the declaration; by the time they had gotten to Hogwarts he had started talking again though his expression darkened every time his eyes were dragged to the twinkling blue of the Headmaster. Typical, the Romanian could only spend so much time without offering his two cents.

"It _is_ fitting," Arthur agreed amicably as he met the Norwegian's gaze and pushed the observation from his mind. He didn't want to start another argument.

"I wonder what Mathias would think if we told him the Ice Prince got into the house of smarty-pants and big egos?" The Englishman sent his friend an odd look.

"If Lukas tries to kill you I'm not saving your arse." Arthur replied as he heard his name called.

"Kirkland, Arthur." He could already hear the whispers; the Kirkland family was known to be full of powerful wizards but the last one had entered Hogwarts over 100 years ago but since no one had heard anything more of them they were thought to be a dead family. _Well you thought wrong, _a hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he stepped forward and Dumbledore's expression morphed into one of intrigue causing Vlad to hiss. Arthur met the Romanian's gaze as he sat down and the hat dropped down onto his eyebrows and, with a snort, the other quieted.

_Well hello again England,_ The hat greeted and the Englishman resisted the urge to smile, after being Sorted so many times the hat was a close friend of his. _Same as usual?_ He nodded ever so slightly and the hat bellowed "Slytherin!" as it had many times before. As Arthur stood and walked to the Slytherin table he sent Harry and Ron a slightly sheepish grin, quite aware of their hatred for the snake house. Well, what would _become_ hatred eventually.

"_Well done,"_ Lukas commented through the link between all three members of the Magic Trio, "_You almost looked sorry."_

"_Almost?"_ Artie replied with amusement as McGonagall called out the next name.

"Popescul, Vladimir."

The Romanian didn't hear his name because he was too busy adding, _"Yeah; it should've been obvious you'd be a Slytherin."_

"_Vlad—"_ Lukas started only to be cut off by a cry of _"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"_ as McGonagall repeated the name and his two friends quickly dissolved into an argument. Lukas sighed in long-suffering annoyance and, pinching the bridge of his nose, suddenly snapped, "Vlad just get your ass up there already!" drawing the attention of most of the people there.

"Make me!" The other retorted instantly. Arthur groaned from his seat at the green and silver table, face-palming as a rune flashed for a brief second and the Romanian had to duck a rather large fireball. "Woah, violent much?"

"Get up there and stop making a fool of yourself before I get Nisse to _drag_ you up there."

"Like I'm afraid of your troll . . . ghost . . . _thing_!"

"Moron, he can hear you, you know."

"Vlad just get your arse up there already!" Arthur groaned.

"What happened to not saving me if he tries to kill me, Iggy?" Vlad teased, "You really do care—now if only we could say the same about the Ice Prince."

"I'm not bloody saving _you_ I'm sparing everyone _else_ from having to see _your bloody guts_ AND HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT, WANKER?!"

The other merely laughed as he started the climb to the Sorting Hat (shooting the rather amused Dumbledore a glare in the process) but before he could be Sorted a voice cried out, "Y-Y-Y-_YOU_!" Vlad blinked a few times before comprehension dawned and he grinned.

"Nice to see you again," He chirped though it soon turned into a grimace as a certain smell reached him, "Not nice to see your turban, though. What do you have in that thing, garlic?"

"It's to keep vampires like you away!" The blonde nearly pouted.

"Now isn't it rude to stereotype someone? Just because I'm Romanian doesn't mean I'm a vampire—haven't you ever heard of jokes?" A pause, "Or fake fangs?" Shooting the horrified teacher another grin he sat on the stool and stole the hat from McGonagall to put on. The room went silent.

The seemingly eleven year old Romanian shifted on the stool appearing almost uncomfortable for a few seconds and several tense minutes passed before a cry of "Gryffindor!" echoed through the room. Breathing a sigh of relief as the hat was lifted from his head and shooting Dumbledore another glare (along with a smirk at Quirrel) he joined Harry at the golden table. Vlad glanced up to meet the curious glances of his friends and shot them a grin and a wink. He had a plan and this time he wouldn't lose.

Hopefully.

* * *

**Before anyone starts complaining about why I put someone where I did, just know I have my reasons. You're free to ask if you want to but be warned that I may not answer you if I feel like it would be a spoiler. Reviews are nice but I'm not going to beg for them. Crimson, out!**


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